Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Spain and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970 at the first Onyeabor practice in a loft in Enugu.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing James White and The Blacks to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Warren Ellis. All the underground hits.
All Morten Harket tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nico record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Reagan Youth record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crash Course in Science,
Delta 5,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Crispian St. Peters,
Amazonics,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Pantaleimon,
Warren Ellis,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Lee Hazlewood,
F. McDonald,
Sparks,
David McCallum,
Dave Gahan,
The Remains,
Sugar Minott,
Eddi Front,
Wire,
Hashim,
Joe Finger,
Minutemen,
10cc,
X-Ray Spex,
Hoover,
Barbara Tucker,
DJ Sneak,
New Order,
Glambeats Corp.,
Shuggie Otis,
Marshall Jefferson,
Deadbeat,
Amon Düül,
Gang Green,
Rites of Spring,
Underground Resistance,
Aural Exciters,
Dead Boys,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Sonic Youth,
Porter Ricks,
OOIOO,
The Mighty Diamonds,
the Sonics,
Todd Terry,
Sex Pistols,
China Crisis,
Fatback Band,
Yazoo,
Fugazi,
Carl Craig,
Maurizio,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
X-101,
Television Personalities,
These Immortal Souls,
Bizarre Inc.,
Rufus Thomas,
The Five Americans,
Malaria!,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Ronan,
Frankie Knuckles, Frankie Knuckles, Frankie Knuckles, Frankie Knuckles.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.